Restless as a Hawk
by Elillierose
Summary: When Tony and Clint are sent on a simple scouting mission, the both of them expect a simple 'get in, get out' deal. Of course, things are never that easy, and it soon becomes clear they have more to worry about than the enemy on their trail. Sickfic
1. Just Tired

**Beta red by:** **Beta read by: markofthemoros and DragonRiderSayomi (aka KageroAssassin - Tumblr)**

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**Ok, since people seemed to like my one-shot, I decided to go ahead and try my hand at a longer, chaptered fic. Again, please be patient, I'm still learning about the series as a whole, so there may be inaccuracies. But rest assured, I'm trying my best. XD I did say I would try and do more Hawkeye fics, so here we are~ Please feel free to let me know what you think!**

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"Aww, coffee…" Clint whined quietly to himself as a stream rolled down the side of the mug and across the counter. He leaned down far enough to sip a little off the top, enough to pick the cup up without extra spillage.

Still drinking the beverage, the blond glanced over the edge as Natasha rolled her eyes. "Really? That's your, what, third cup in the last two hours?" She raised an eyebrow as he took another, deep drink with a sigh. "Might wanna cool it with your intake."

"No can do," he breathed out. He held up a hand in pause as he gave a lengthy yawn. "'Bout to head back out, need to stay awake. Speaking of…" he muttered, more softly. Natasha's mouth tightened at the exhaustion in his voice. But, she said nothing as he quickly filled a to-go cup. "Gonna need one on the road."

Now it was her turn to sigh. "We got back five hours ago, are they really sending you back out?" Shouldn't have been much of a surprise; back to back missions was nothing new for the duo.

Clint gave a one-shouldered shrug as he turned back around, now with a coffee in each hand. Based on the circles under his eyes, maybe he really did need the extra caffeine rush for this. The man may as well have been running on fumes. "Just a quick run, should be back by tonight. Not really a mission, per se," he offered, as if that made things any better. "Just go in, check the place out, head back. Easy peasy. Lemon squ-"

"Barton!" The duo of spies cut their eyes over to Tony, leaning over the railing a level above them. "We don't have all day to wait on your ass."

The blond gave a fleeting wave, downed the rest of his coffee and offered Natasha a quick 'later'. He took a step before her voice called out after him. "Hey, don't overdo it out there, alright?" He glanced over his shoulder, and damn did he always hate that worried look of hers: the knit brows and set jaw. It was such an unnatural expression for her. And a rare one.

"Don't worry, I always come back," he assured, giving a quick smirk before making his way upstairs. He didn't turn to her again, but a pair of holes were certainly burning into his back. As he reached the top, his free hand pressed against one of his eyes in a small attempt at suppressing the growing ache. Shit, he was tired.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Stark smiled from his place across from Fury. The latter said nothing as Clint stepped in and took the seat next to the genius. The moment he was situated, Nick leaned in closer and gave the both of them a quick glance-over.

After taking a deep breath, the man leaned back, folding his hands over one another. "I just want it to be clear what you two are to be doing on this mission." He made sure to gaze particularly at Tony. "Neither of you are to engage anyone, this is nothing more than a scouting mission. Understand?" A couple of nods, and a somewhat uninterested hum from Tony. "You are to check the area and gather only information. Do I make myself clear? This is why it's only the two of you. The less people we send, the better. Clint for your experience in stealth expeditions, and Tony for your technological prowess."

Neither of them missed the smirk from the genius.

"Don't inflate his ego too much," Clint muttered. "The thing is already on the verge of becoming sentient."

As if nothing had been said, Nick continued: "You're to take a look at the base and make sure it's what we think it is before we send in a whole team. This is a covert operation. Again, is that understood?"

"Loud 'n' clear," Tony gave a playful salute.

Giving a sharp nod, Fury added, "And please, take this seriously."

"Serious is my middle name," Tony nodded. "Well, actually it's-"

"Stark," Nick warned, getting to his feet. "Just promise me, no fooling around. We can't have the higher ups up our ass again. So, I'll ask you again, don't fuck this up."

This time, Tony only nodded, lips pressed tight. He stayed right where he was as Nick made his way to the door. "The coordinates will be sent to you shortly. Go ahead and get ready, I want the both of you out of here within the hour." The pair sat in heavy silence for a few moments, only for the quiet to be broken by another sip of coffee.

Slowly, Tony turned to face Clint. "Can you be any louder?" He pushed himself up and clapped his hands together. "Let's get this over with, Tweetie." He took a couple steps before stopping mid step. He cut his attention over. "You look like shit, by the way."

"Thanks…" Geez, first Nat, and now him. Wasn't his fault he couldn't look glamorous right after a lengthy mission.

Stark's gaze roamed over his features, but he left it at that. It wasn't exactly a rare sight, both him and Natasha often returned a little worse for ware, but bounced back within a day or two. "As long as you're able to shoot your little arrows," he muttered.

"I'll tell you where you can stick one of those 'little arrows,'" Clint mumbled under his breath. With a deep breath, he followed suit, no more than a few feet behind the other man. As they approached the Quinjet, Clint ran a hand down his face and practically collapsed into the co-pilot's seat the very second they reached the cockpit. He leaned back, coffee now grasped between his hands, and allowed his eyes to slip shut. All the clicking and clanking going on around him as Tony got everything prepared was starting to grate on his already agitated nerves. A few minutes went by, and finally, Stark dropped in the seat next to him.

Clint didn't even open his eyes as the jet started up and vibrations were sent up his legs. Instead, he relaxed back and willed his shoulders to roll back. It'd probably be a couple hours or so before they arrived, plenty of time for a quick nap.

Nothing but hopeful wishing.

"You spill that, you're paying for the cleaners."

The blond jolted slightly just in time before his cup could slip from his hands. He cleared his throat and corrected his posture a little. Now straighter in his seat, he cleared again, wincing a bit at the scratchiness resonating in the back. Cocking his head in irritation, he took a long drink of the now lukewarm liquid. He swore silently to himself for letting it cool off so much. Oh well, it didn't matter much, it was still some sort of caffeine.

"You, uh, you sure you're up for this?" Tony asked, casting the other man a swift glance. "Because I don't want to have to explain to anyone how this all went to Hell because someone couldn't stay awake."

Clint waved a dismissive hand. "I told you, I'm fine. Once we get there, I'm sure the cold will wake me up." He was determined to leave it at that, because that's all there was to it. He slowly finished up his coffee, and for the reminder of the time they had left, he intended to sleep it away.

Key word: Intended.

"Ok, just wanted to make sure," Tony muttered, as though it were to himself, but Clint knew better than that.

The blond pried one eye open to glare over until the genius was quiet again. With sigh, he sank deeper into his seat, this time closer to slumber.

"Hey, Birdie-boy."

This time, Clint hummed, loud and clear, making his annoyance painfully clear. "What do you want, Tony?" he asked, tone firm.

"We're here."

'_Great,'_ the archer thought bitterly, opening his eyes and sitting back up. And not a second of sleep - unless you count those on and off near-naps towards the start of their trip. He sure as hell didn't. He groaned lightly and raised a hand to his head. He pushed the throbs that pulsed through it to the back. His eyes scanned the scenery before them, and a chill already set in his spine at the white sheets coating the hills and mountains. On the bright side, at least the chill would help wake him up.

Before the aircraft was a few yards off the ground, Clint was gathering his things, strapping everything on with heavy sighs.

"Someone's eager," Tony muttered under his breath with a sly smirk playing the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah," Barton snorted, "eager to finish, get home, and get my ass to bed." He offered a small, impish half-smile of his own in an attempt to lighten the already spoiled mood. "So, how long you think this will take? A few hours?" He knew better than that, but it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of hope, right?

The snort he got as a reply was just what he was expecting. He was already aware, based on the size of this base, which was of a decent size, and the cover they had with this weather, it would be at least eight hours. And that's only if things carried out optimally. Clint cast another glance at Tony as he finally got them landed and started suiting up. His lips pressed together at the light-hearted expression the other wore. Yeah, this was definitely going to take more than that.

The genius whistled a low tune as he finished up and opened the doors. The archer flinched as the crisp air flowed in, hitting like sharpened ice shards against his face. "You ready to go for a bit of a fly?" he asked, looking back and flashing a quick grin before it swiftly finished behind the 'swish' of his mask.

"Just, remember not to take us in too close…" Clint warned as the other man linked his arms through the blond's.

"I'll also try to remember not to drop you," Tony muttered back. He felt the other's arms stiffen, clearly on the verge of giving a retort of his own. Whatever he was about to say was lost in the roaring of his thrusters. In a matter of seconds, they were about a hundred feet above the ground and moving forward at a considerable speed.

All the while, Clint kept his eyes closed. Obviously, the height bothered him little if at all, but the quick ascension didn't do his growing headache any favors. And he was thankful for the near-deafening sound of Tony's suit to be able to cover up the groan he felt escape his throat. He counted the seconds - minutes - they were flying for until they finally slowed to a stop. A small prayer ghosted over parted lips when his feet finally sank into soft, freshly-fallen snow.

Unexpectedly, he stumbled a bit with his first step, a bit shocked to realize the strong grasp on his upper arm kept him from getting a face full of frozen fluff.

"Yeah, took me a while to get used to landing, too," Tony said with a click of his tongue. Though his face couldn't be seen, Clint could still see the over-confident wink accompanying the sound.

"Shuddup," Clint ground back, swallowing down a touch of nausea. He straightened himself up and rolled his shoulders back, effectively shaking off any visual signs of uncertainty he may have had. If the other man had noticed any shortcomings, he kept them to himself, much to Clint's appreciation. "Let's just...yeah," he muttered, readjusting his quiver and taking it upon himself to take the lead on this one.

There were no complaints from Tony as he followed after. The occasional swear filtered its way out as he trekked through the piled up snow. And he couldn't deny the slight hint of jealousy as he gazed ahead to the easy trekking of the archer. It was as if the knee high white blanket went almost unnoticed. He glanced down at his thrusters and grumbled softly. If it weren't for the risk of being heard, he'd not hesitate to just fly himself over.

Or, it did for a while until Tony picked up on the subtle stumble followed by a frustrated sigh. They continued on for a few more minutes - a few minutes of pushing their way through and focusing on getting one foot in front of the other without tripping on anything hiding underneath. So focused on his own travels, the genius nearly ran straight into the blond when he made an abrupt stop.

"H-Hey, give a bit of a warning next time will y-"

"Shh…"

Clint's hand shot up, causing the other man to flinch slightly. Tony tightened his lips, eyes wide as he tried to follow Barton's gaze. His eyes flicked from one side to the other, but for the life of him, he couldn't see other than white and trees.

Voice low, Tony mumbled, "Whatcha see with your elf eyes, Lego-"

He bit right back down when Clint grabbed an arrow and notched it in a fraction of a second. And in the next, the arrow was flying through the air - at a speed he could barely keep up with. However, there was not a chance in Hell he missed the sparking from a few yards ahead.

"Camera," Barton clarified with a glance back.

"Ah," Tony breathed out with a small nod. "A camera? Don't you think shooting it will be, I don't know, a dead giveaway?" Despite his words, his voice carried a light tone.

Another half-shrug. "It wasn't facing us, so we weren't spotted. As cold as it is and," he glanced up, "with all the frozen branches and icicles, anything could have broken it." He replaced his bow and rubbed his hands together. Even with the gloves, his fingers were growing a tad numb. That and he was sure the frigid temperature were making his headache that much worse. '_Just bare with it, Clint_,' he told himself. '_Soon enough, this will be over, and you'll be on your way back to a hot cup of coffee and bed.'_ He sighed, keeping that thought in mind.

A few more minutes of walking, and finally, to the relief of them both, a structure came into view. They took this opportunity to get low and survey the area. Clint only glanced around for a few seconds before raising an eyebrow at Tony and scanning him up and down.

"You really should have considered a different paint job," he scoffed. "Don't think red and gold are exactly the most subtle."

Barton knew there was an eye roll before the genius spoke. "Well, excuse me for not being prepared, Twinkle Toes. But, in case you've forgotten, I'm not normally equipped for stealth missions...that's kinda not my thing."

"Trust me...I know," Clint replied, clearing his throat rather roughly in between words. He winced slightly as the last one grated uncomfortably. He tugged at his collar, just now realizing how tight it was. Despite the cold, there was a minor warmth that had started to originate from his chest about half an hour prior. Clearing his throat again in an attempt to rid himself of an itch, he only aggravated it further, eliciting a couple light coughs.

"You good?"

Without hesitation, Barton waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, fine, this damn cold air is annoying as hell." His right hand raised to massage his throat in a futile attempt to alleviate some of the scratchiness.

"If you say so," the pepper-haired man muttered brow furrowed. Now that his attention was piqued, he noticed more easily the awkward way the other man carried himself as they continued. He watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with more effort than a few minutes ago and the way his feet dragged more heavily behind him. Worry pooled in the back of his mind, but before he could focus on it too much, his eyes were brought elsewhere: to the now full view of the building. It was still a distance away, but they could make out almost the whole structure.

The moment they came to their second stop, Barton wasted no time crouching down, motioning for Tony to do the same. The latter's lips pressed together tighter at the sound of the archer's near breathlessness. He opened his mouth, ready to voice his concern again, but alas, the chance was snatched away.

"Do your thing," Clint whispered, nodding forward.

"Right."

He didn't need to be asked twice. "Jarvis, you know what to do."

In a matter of seconds, panel after panel of information popped up before him. He hummed to himself as he scanned it all over, mumbling softly. There was a few clicks of his tongue. Whether they were good or bad clicks, that was to be discovered. Meanwhile, Clint waited patiently, or as patiently as he could. His fingers drummed down his bow in anticipation.

"Well?" the blond finally asked a few more moments.

There was another hum before the other man spoke. "Well, as expected, there is quite a bit of security measures. Quite impressive too, might I add. Though, not quite as impres-"

"Stark."

"Ok, ok. It shouldn't be too difficult to disable it. Just gonna need you to take out a few more cameras so I can get in closer and see what I can do about it. Though, that's not the issue, what they have is obsolete, so the issue is just getting close."

Clint nodded, "Alright, just tell me where they are." He once again readied his bow and quickly took out the first one pointed out. Then the second, and a third. As he notched his fourth arrow, a small hiss escaped him with the pang that jolted through his chest. Jaw tight, he pulled back as the last location was called out to him. He swore silently with the slight tremble that went down his arm.

After that, Clint wished he could explain what happened. All he knew was his vision wavered and his grasp faltered, causing his hold to release.

Eyes locked on the projectile, Tony's heart clenched as he watched it fly through the air and...miss? It traveled right past the target. His mouth fell agape at the sight and he turned his head to the equally shocked expression on the agent.

He missed.

Hawkeye _missed_.

Though, that's not to say the stray arrow didn't hit something, for it certainly did. And it was the blaring alarms as a result that tore Tony's attention away from the bewildered blond.

"We have to move," he whispered, firm hand clapping on the other's back. "They know someone's here, we need to fall back and wait it out." Still, Clint didn't budge; his focus remained forward, but his eyes revealed the shame that fought with confusion underneath. "Barton, move!" Stark raised his voice, giving the shoulder a solid shake. "You can self-reflect later," he said as the commotion grew closer. "For now, we _need_ to back off!"

Clint nodded stiffly. "Right, of course." His gaze dropped as he stifled another cough before unsteadily getting to his feet. What the hell happened? He took one last look in the direction of his misguided arrow, noticing instantly the slight blur at the edges of his sight. He blinked until things cleared once more. He was just tired, that's all there was to it.

"Come ON!"

Barton let out a huff and took off after the other. He hated to admit it, but Tony was right. Get away now, worry about his blunder later. Though, even with that in mind, he couldn't quite shake the bubbling doubt brewing in the pit of his stomach. Every step he took sent a jolt through his whole body, each one only arguing against his 'just tired' excuse.


	2. Uneasy Feelings

**So sorry for the wait. Things have been slow and will be from here on out since I've been picked up by an indie team as their pixel artist. ;w; So, that will take up the majority of my time, but I'll still be writing when I can!**

**Beta read by: markofthemoros and DragonRiderSayomi**

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**Yurosoku: Thank you! And I sure hope so~ Been wanting to do a chaptered Hawkeye fic for quite a while now. XD**

**parish07: Thank you! So sorry for the wait, hoping the next chapter will be faster. ;w;**

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'_What the hell have I done?' _Clint ducked beneath another branch. His lungs were on fire and his mind was running a marathon. He stayed only a few steps behind Tony, who was increasingly letting out swear after complaint. Barton would have likely been doing the same if he weren't already too preoccupied with keeping his own breathing under control.

The commotion that was steadily growing behind them was shoved to the back of the blond's thoughts. Every other concern was overshadowed by his lingering shock. That moment replayed in his head repeatedly. For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out what went wrong. He should have had that shot, it was an easy shot, one he could have easily executed in his sleep.

As if to answer his unspoken inquiries, a sharp pain jolted through his chest and his vision blurred in the same way it had earlier. Only this time, it stayed for a few seconds longer than he was comfortable with. His breath hitched and his hand reached out, finding support against a tree. Head lowered, eyes drifting back and forth in search of something to focus on, he was barely aware of the hand resting on his shoulder.

What could have been mistaken for a lifetime, Clint attention raised to Tony's exposed features, concern plain in the wrinkles adorning man's forehead. His mouth was moving, but nothing was cutting through the ringing in his ears.

"-ton!"

Clint blinked heavily, swallowing the welling nausea in the base of his throat.

"Clint!"

The archer took a deep breath, ignoring the protest his body made and looked the genius in the eyes. "I-I'm fine," he muttered, voice a pitch higher than normal. "I'm fine," he repeated, with more - forced - conviction.

Stark didn't appear convinced, but he gave a short nod anyway. "You better be because," he craned his neck to look around the other, "they're not happy about having uninvited guests." Another curse slipped under his breath when voices cut through. They were closer than he thought. "Ok, well, we're gonna have to pick up the pace a bit." Despite his lowered voice, the urgency was plain and clear.

As much as he craved it, there wasn't time for a break. He nodded once. "Righ-" Again, his chest clenched and his fingers dug into bark. In a fraction of a second, he was doubled over, lungs determined to expel every particle of air there was.

'_Shit…' _he muttered in his head after the colors began to blossom. Now was not the time for this. Passing out now just simply was not an option. Gasping for breath, he prepared to push himself away from his perch. But he wasn't fast enough before hands grabbed him under his arms.

"Sorry, but we're in a hurry," he barely made out Tony's half-hearted warning. Clint didn't feel confident enough to reply, so he prayed his affirmative groan got the point across. A groan that slipped into a gasp when the telltale jolt of them leaving the ground yanked it out. But, even in his dreary state, he knew for a fact they weren't going in the direction of their ride out of here.

"Tony," he muttered, but his call went unheard. "Stark!" he tried again, voice already straining against the forced volume. "Wrong way!"

There was an amused chuckle. "Trust me, I remember where I parked. Dunno about you, but I don't think leading them in the direction of our getaway is in our best interest." Clint sighed at that. Of course, that made sense. He almost cursed himself for even having to ask. A couple more moments went by before he risked a glance down. The blurs of the trees urged him to close his eyes to prevent them from bringing on another wave of dizziness. His jaw was set firm as he leaned his head back and tried to will this to be over faster.

To his dismay, he didn't get his wish. Before it was over with, Clint was sure he wasn't going to be able to hold himself together anymore. His lips were pressed tightly together. Just as he was sure he was about to lose control, the breeze calmed, signalling them slowing down. He risked an eye to crack open and instant relief washed over him to find the ground closer than it had been.

Unfortunately, this landing wasn't quite as graceful as the first. When they touched the ground and Tony released his hold, Clint's balance went straight out the window. In an instant, he was on his hands and knees, eyes squeezed shut. Before he could really pull himself together, Tony's voice reached him.

"So, you care to tell me what the hell that was back there?"

Barton didn't reply right away, but he did hold up a single hand. He needed a moment - or two. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were immediately cut off by a series of coughs. His free hand dropped back and sank into the snow as his shoulders shook. Each cough added to the pressure in his chest. If it weren't for his obvious discomfort, the embarrassment he felt would have been about double what it was.

"Fuck…" he whispered breathlessly when they finally eased away. Silence fell between the two of them; there was no other sound than that of his haggard breathing. The question still hung in the air though, and Clint reluctantly cut his attention over his shoulder. Tony was still standing there, staring down at him. But, the uneasy look in his eyes made the blond quickly look back away. "I-I dunno," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "The wind?"

There was a less than entertained scoff at that. "The wind? You think I'm going to buy that sorry ass excuse?" He folded his arms, and again, quiet drifted between the two of them. "What's really going on?" Surprisingly, his tone was a lot softer than what Clint was used to. And he wasn't sure if it was his pride or his own shame, but all he could do was merely shrug.

As if the lack of a clear answer wasn't bad enough, the fact that he hadn't made an effort to get back to his feet yet stung a few chords of concern in the other man. He gave Clint about another half minute, time for his breathing to finally even out. Slowly, the crouched hero inhaled deeply - slowly, and with the assistance of a tree, he carefully pulled himself up.

"Well?"

Barton leaned his head back slightly, fighting the urge roll his eyes and released a weary sigh. "Look," he started, voice lowered, "I've barely gotten any sleep in the last few days, alright?" They both knew, though, and were painfully aware that regardless of how truthful the statement was, it carried little merit. Tony had seen what the man could do with weeks of little sleep.

Clint turned, face to face with that expression of doubt. "We should keep moving," the blond muttered, head lowered a few degrees as he stepped around the other.

"Right…" Stark replied, falling in to step behind him. As they moved, he was more than attentive now. Perhaps too much so, for every minor waver presented to him nearly had him reaching out. He almost wanted to slap himself; what the hell was with him? Clint was walking and he appeared relatively fine for the most part. So, why was he getting the need to help him. He didn't actually care _that_ much, did he?

He breathed deeply through his nose.

"We should probably just find a place to hunker down for a while," Tony suggested after some time. "You know, give them time to get tired and head back for a nice cup of tea or something." For a moment, he got no response, but as he opened his mouth to repeat himself, with some addition, the other came to a halt. For the brief moment before Clint spoke, Tony could make out his borderline panting.

"Maybe wait it out until night," he mumbled. "Better to make our getaway then."

"Or, you know, I could always just fly us all the way back, there's enough pow-"

A hand shot up, instantly silencing him. A quick glance at the archer, and Stark caught the noticeable paling of his features. "No." he said quickly with a sharp jerk of his head. "Not again, not anytime soon." If Tony didn't know better, he'd think the thought alone was making him nauseous.

"Would be a lot faster...could be home by tonight…" Tony muttered under his breath, but there was no bite to it. If anything, there was an edge of tease to it. "I could also always just blast a hole in the side of one of these mountains.

"Yeah, because that's subtle."

"Eh," Tony shrugged.

For a little while more, they were able to trek without pause, and without any further events. It wasn't until afternoon started to roll around that their pace slowed to barely that of a snail. Clint's breaths were coming heavier and quicker. Yet, regardless of this, the man showed no intention of purposely slowing down, let alone stopping for a few. But, when he nearly tripped over his own feet, Tony felt the need to finally step in.

He placed a firm hand on the blond's shoulder. "Hey," he spoke softly. It was a bit surprising that the other ceased as soon as Tony touched his shoulder. The way his shoulders slacked was practically that of relief.

"They aren't on our tails anymore, you know," he reminded with a half laugh. "We can go for a nice stroll now. I mean, just enjoy the view," he said, a bit too cheerily. "It's always go-go-go with the two of you." He waited for a few seconds, "We're even allowed to take a break. But, we can't tell the boss," he lightly joked.

Clint didn't have to be told twice. Clearing his throat, he pressed his back against the nearest tree and let himself slide down, right into the snow. Tony raised an eyebrow at that, but he let him be. Whatever made the guy comfortable, he supposed.

Tony kept a close eye on the man, but tried not to make it too obvious. But, he should have known better, given who he was with.

"You think I'm just going to keel over any second or something?" Barton asked, cutting his gaze over. As hard as he clearly tried, the glare didn't hold nearly as much threat as they typically did. It were dull, dreadfully exhausted and lacked their usual focus. He only held his look for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I told you...I'm fine."

Stark licked dry lips. "Who're you trying to convince?"

Slowly, a sliver of blue orbs revealed themselves, though they looked to nothing or no one. The archer's jaw stiffened, and the other thought he was about to get a response. Tony leaned in to make sure he could hear clearly. But, no sooner had he done so did Clint forcefully throw himself to the side, just in time to heave into the snow instead of all over himself. Stark was completely taken off guard, and for the first couple of retches, he stared, eyes widened and jaw slack.

"Shit…" Tony whispered at last.

After every heave came a shaky and whimpering inhale. Clint's arms trembled as things gradually began to calm down. By the time they were subsiding, Tony was standing next to him, one hand dropped lightly to his upper back.

Tony was terrible in these situations; what the hell was he even supposed to do? Multiple times, his hand lowered and raised again until he finally let it rest on the other man's back. But, he still kept his gaze off to the side. He barely let his own breath escape during the duration of Clint's retching.

And, he even sighed the moment it was over.

"You...uh, done?" He gave a couple awkward pats with the question.

Clint didn't answer immediately, and he wasn't expected to. So, the two of them stood/kneeled where they were in silence while the blond composed himself. "I-I think," he rapsed, shoving himself away from the mess. He crawled the couple of feet it took to get against a different tree, leaving Tony to continue to stand there totally out of his element.

"Fuck," Barton added, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Well, there was no denying anything now, that was for sure.

"Are you still 'fine'?"

"Shut up, Stark. Not in the mood." To his relief and shock, the other man actually didn't say another word. After a few more minutes, the worst of the nausea faded and he finally felt as though he could function again without vomiting again. "We should...we should go find that shelter now."

A look of shock crossed the other man's features. "What?" he blurted out. "Don't you think we should just say screw it and risk going back? I think _that," _he motioned to the side, "is a reason to head back. Can't have you throwing up everywhere and then passing out on me or something. Or worse, dying."

Clint couldn't help but dramatically roll his eyes at that. "Die? Really?" With a grunt, and a slight scrunch of his features, the blond forced himself back to his feet. However, even Tony could tell there was a bit of struggle that came with the action. He had to admit though, the agent did a damn good job of hiding it. If he hadn't been working so closely with him lately, he would have completely missed it.

"I really think heading back is the best optio-"

"You said it yourself," Clint interrupted, "we shouldn't risk it. I promise you, I'm not going to 'die' before the sun goes down. We...should just…" He paused to let out a couple of dry coughs. "We should just hurry up and find a spot."

There was no arguing with him, it would only serve to waste time and energy. And based on what he could see, that wasn't something that could have been afforded. "The sooner the better," he agreed with a small shiver. He hadn't noticed before, but now he was sure the temperature was beginning to drop. Even more reason to go along with things for now and get out of the open.

Actually, he had a better idea, one he hated took this long to think of.

"You stay here," he said; it was not a request. "I'll go take a quick look around. And don't you _dare_ move, do you understand me, mister?"

Clint was ready to protest, but the other man was faster in propelling himself into the air, leaving the archer with a raised hand. He let out a huff, one he instantly regretted when it irritated his throat and caused a minor fit. Luckily, it didn't last nearly as long as the first one had. With nothing better to do, he dropped himself back down and crossed his arms over his chest - which was feeling tighter by the hour.

That and his exhaustion only multiplied tenfold since that last episode of his. He nearly cursed the weight that plagued his eyelids the longer he sat there. Barton let out a heavy breath and allowed himself to sink a little bit farther. He tried to will Tony to hurry the hell up; he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep himself awake at this rate.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading, feel free to let me know what you think so far~ I'm still fairly new to this fandom, so inaccuracies are still a high possibility. ;A;**


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